


No One Quite Knew What To Make Of The Moon Anymore

by Fallenstar126



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, more to come - Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, M/M, Muteness, Orphanage, Orphans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallenstar126/pseuds/Fallenstar126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days. Never before had Ryan’s life changed so quickly before. It started with him coming home from school, and finding his father choking on his own vomit. He spent two hours at the hospital, but he knew that this was the end. </p><p>Ryan Ross was ten years old, and he was alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Quite Knew What To Make Of The Moon Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Currently this is unedited, but as soon as I get the edits I will update with them!
> 
> I am putting myself through college rn, so if you have a spare few dollars, maybe toss me a couple bucks for a coffee! http://ko-fi.com/humanwreakage

Three days. Never before had Ryan’s life changed so quickly before. It started with him coming home from school, and finding his father choking on his own vomit. He spent two hours at the hospital, but he knew that this was the end.

 

He spent the night at the hospital, because there was no where else for him to go. The nurses were nice, giving him a pillow and directing him to a room with a few, inexpensive and uncomfortable beds. Their small smiles when they handed him the items held pity, and Ryan hated it. He wanted to scream, to shake them until they realized that it didn’t matter to him, none of this mattered anymore.

 

Ryan Ross was ten years old, and he was alone.

 

In the morning, he was woken by a kind looking man shaking his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes from bending over too far. “You’re Ryan, right?” When the man received a small, tentative nod, he continued. “I’m Spencer. I’m your social worker. Come get breakfast, my treat.”

 

When Ryan got out of bed, Spencer held out his hand, but Ryan ignored it. He didn’t need help, he didn’t need anyone. He liked being alone.

 

Breakfast was fine, Spencer spent the time asking him about his family, and his life at home, only getting a nod or a shake of his head in reply.

 

“Do you know of any living relatives out there?” Ryan paused, studying the muffin in front of him. He knew his mother was out there, but she had left him, so it was obvious to his ten-year-old brain that she didn’t want him.

 

He shook his head.

 

“Well, what about a friend whose parents wouldn’t mind you staying over for a while?”

 

Another shake.

 

Seven hours later, Ryan was sitting in a big chair, watching Spencer fill out some paperwork. They had spent the day packing up clothing from his small room at home, and deciding if there was anything in the house worth saving.

 

There wasn’t.

 

Ryan was careful not to look in the kitchen, terrified of seeing his father again in his mind's eye,  wrething on the floor and gasping for air. He didn’t show he was scared though, he kept his chin set, and his mouth shut. Spencer would hold things out to Ryan, ask if he wanted it, and Ryan would shake his head.

 

By the end of their time there, Ryan’s bag was barely half full, and Spencer seemed exhausted, both mentally and physically. When the man rested a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, he jumped, and shuffled away. A pained frown appeared on Spencer's face, but he didn’t say anything about it.

 

“You’re going to stay at my place tonight, and then tomorrow I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Walker. He’s a good friend of mine, and runs a place with a bunch of other kids like you. He’ll be able to take care of you.” Ryan looked from his lap to Spencer. He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t staying. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, but ignored it. He didn’t care, he couldn’t let himself care.

 

When Spencer didn’t get a response, he ruffled Ryan’s hair before going back to working on the forms.

 

Ryan dreamt of nothing that night.

 

The next morning, he woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. He felt his stomach rumble, but he shook his head when Spencer asked if he was hungry.

 

The car ride to their next destination was short, and silent. Spencer didn’t seem any less tired than he had been the previous day, even after a full night’s rest. Ryan spent the drive staring out the window. An apartment building passed, with a child’s chalk drawing of a happy family coming into view. He blinked at it for a moment, before turning away, staring at his lap.

 

The car came to a stop in front of one of the apartment buildings, a small plaque beside the door letting everyone know that this building was, in fact, an orphanage. Ryan frowned to himself, taking the backpack that Spencer held out to him, and following him up the stairs into the building.

 

A new man was waiting for them in the front corridor, and brought them into a small office after introducing himself as Jon, or ‘Mr. Walker’ as Spencer had called him previously. The situation was explain quickly, and with big words that Ryan didn’t really understand most of the time, but he pretended to. Jon nodded along while pulling out more papers, sliding them across the desk to Spencer, and handing him a pen. Ryan stopped listening after a while, getting distracted by the noises on the other side of the door.

 

He thought he heard someone yelling, but when he looked back to Spencer and Jon, they didn’t seem bothered, so Ryan figured it was normal. He hoped not, but with the little reaction to it, it probably was.

 

After what felt like forever, all of the paperwork was signed, and Ryan was free from the small, claustrophobic room. He intended to investigate what had made the loud noises, but he didn’t get the chance before a smaller boy appeared out of seemingly nowhere in front of him.

 

“Hi!” The boy exclaimed, holding out a hand. “I’m Brendon, you’re sharing a room with me!” It seemed that Ryan had found the source of the noise without even having to look. “Jon told me yesterday that you would be coming… You are Ryan, right?”

 

Ryan nodded, still in slight shock.

 

“Good! That would have been awkward if you weren’t. Anyway, our room is upstairs if you want to go drop your bags off.” Ryan looked back at Jon and Spencer, a look of apprehension on his face. He didn’t know what to think of this hyperactive boy before him.

 

“Go on, Ryan. It would be good to put your bag away.” Spencer encouraged warmly, but Ryan still hesitated. After a couple seconds, he held out a hand for Spencer. As much as he didn’t need anyone, this man had freed him from the hospital, where the nurses would stare and whisper behind their hands as if he couldn’t hear them talking about his father, and what it must be like to lose someone like that.

 

Honestly, Ryan didn’t feel much about his father’s death, but being the center of attention got pretty annoying pretty quickly.

 

Spencer looked at his open hand with wide eyes for a split second, but it was long enough for Ryan to get self conscious, and start to pull it away, but Spencer quickly grasped it in his own, squeezing lightly and he felt a bit better. “Alright, Brendon. Lead the way.” Spencer said, a small smile still on his face. Brendon grinned widely, and set off up the stars.

 

The room was tiny, but it certainly wasn’t large either, especially for two boys. Ryan didn’t mind though, he tended not to take up as much space as expected anyway. “This is my bed!” Brendon yelled, running and jumping onto the bottom bed of a bunk bed. “I’m scared of heights, so I sleep on this one. Unless you want it, then I guess I can switch.” Ryan shook his head, looking up the small ladder.

 

The top bed was bare right now, but Brendon was quick to reassure him that Jon had gotten him some nice new sheets and blankets, and that they were in the wash. “I helped pick them out!” He stated firmly, as if it was a matter of great importance. “This is mine too, and yours is that one.” Brendon pointed to the other, which was a dark blue, with white handles.

 

Ryan left Spencer over, still unwilling to let go of the man’s hand, though he would never admit it, and put his bag on top.  Brendon seemed like he was about to jump out of his skin from excitement.

 

“Do you want to go meet everybody else now? I promise they’re nice, and if they’re not, I’ll tell on them for you.” Ryan looked up to Spencer, trying to contain his nerves. He was never good with people. Spencer gave him another small, encouraging smile, but Ryan didn’t smile back.

 

He let go of Spencer’s hand, but it wasn’t empty for long, as Brendon grabbed it and started pulling him out the door. “Come on, come on! I’ll introduce you to Pete and Patrick first, Patrick doesn’t talk a lot either, besides telling Pete off, so I think you’ll get along with him! Then after that-” Ryan tuned him out, looking back at Spencer in sheer panic.

 

He desperately tried to tug his hand free from Brendons grip, but for a tiny boy, he was surprisingly strong. Either that, or Ryan just was weak.

 

“Pete!” Brendon yelled as they entered a larger room, where a group of kids were all flopped in various positions on the furniture. Two of them lifted their heads at Brendon’s yell, and came to meet them at the door. “This is Ryan, he’s new so you have to be nice to him, he doesn’t talk a lot either, like Patrick, but I’ll know if you’re mean to him.” Brendon fixed the two boys with a firm glare, as the shorter one piped up.

 

“Hey! I talk! I just don’t feel the need to justify some stuff that you say with answers.” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest as Ryan looked between all three of them in confusion. “Oh, I’m Patrick. This is Pete.” Brendon introduced them, smiling happily.

 

“Why don’t you talk?” Pete asked, frowning slightly in Ryan’s direction. Ryan just shrugged lightly, averting his own eyes from the older boy’s gaze.

 

“I think it’s something to do with his parents. I don’t know.” Brendon replied for him. “It’s okay though, I’ll speak enough for the both of us.” Patrick rolled his eyes, still smiling.

 

“Please don’t talk anymore than you already do, at this point you talk enough for three people.” He deadpanned, and Ryan smirked. He liked this Patrick kid.

 

“Hey! I don’t talk that much!” Brendon protested, and Pete laughed loudly, shaking his head.

 

“Trust me, you do. That’s okay though, you wouldn’t be Brendon if you weren’t constantly spouting some sort of nonsense. It’s good to meet you, Ryan.” He said once he got a hold of himself, smiling at Ryan.

 

Ryan smiled lightly back, turning to look at the rest of the room. Brendon spent the rest of the day introducing him to the rest of the people, though he would probably forget most of their names within the day. Thankfully, none of them would ever find out, because Ryan didn’t plan on speaking to any of them.

 

When it came time for dinner, Jon appeared again, sitting towards the head of the table and talking openly with another man, who seemed to be much a little younger than him, though his facial features could have made him appear younger than he was. One of the older kids was talking with them, and Ryan glanced between the two, noting a few similarities. He tuned out the conversation around him, ignoring Brendon’s insistent tugging on his arm.

 

After a few minutes of listening, he knew that this stranger was named Gerard, and had lived in the orphanage for five years, along with his brother, Mikey, who still lived there. It seemed that he visited often, and many of the other kids would join in their conversation at random times, asking about something that Ryan knew nothing about. He had never heard of “Breakfast Monkey” before in his life, but it seemed to be a large topic of conversation with Gerard.

 

Eventually, Brendon won Ryan’s attention back when he decided there was nothing else of interest to learn about this ‘Gerard’, and turned back to him, listening to his drawn out story about some Frank kid who had jumped off the balcony last week, with a sheet as his parachute. Ryan raised an eyebrow, gaze carefully neutral as he looked around the table, locating the kid with the cast that he had seen when carefully studying Gerard. He glanced down at the broken arm, admiring the brightly coloured drawings decorating it.

 

While admiring these drawings, he felt someone’s eyes on him, and forced his gaze upward a little, finding the owner of the cast staring at him. Ryan quickly looked back towards Brendon, who laughed at his expression, which was full of both fear and embarrassment. He heard loud laughter from the end of the table, and he sunk low in his chair. It wasn’t as if he had to reach the table anyway, he wasn’t hungry in the first place. Brendon, after asking if he could, took the plate of spaghetti and dumped it onto his own, happily scooping it up with his fork and shoveling it into his mouth, much of it ending up dangling out and getting sauce all over his shirt.

 

Ryan watched as Patrick shot him a look of disgust, and complained loudly about it to Pete, who just laughed and shoved his friend’s shoulder. “Let the kid eat however, it’s not like we’re putting on fronts for everybody.” Patrick gave Ryan a look of despair, as if somehow they were on the same side.

 

“Do you agree with this?” He asked, and Ryan shrugged, turning in his chair so he could stare at the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest as he leaned against the headrest. Patrick waited another second for an answer, before turning to Pete to reply. “Look, one day he’s gonna have to learn properly!” Ryan tuned them out once more, his focus on counting the marks in the dark wood flooring.

 

Brendon looked over at him, still chewing the large mouthful of pasta. He felt the need to say something, but Jon had told him that it wasn’t polite to talk with his mouthful, so he turned away again, chewing forcefully.

 

Before he could finish what was in his mouth, however, Jon was walking over, and asked if Ryan was alright. When Ryan shook his head, Jon knelt down to his level, as if it would stop the other kids from staring at them, though Brendon could see that it only made the younger ones stand up on their chairs to see.

 

“Do you want to go lay down? I know it can be a lot on your first day, so if you need to leave-” Ryan nodded before he could finish his sentence, pushing his chair back and getting up, quickly leaving the quiet room. Brendon faintly heard his feet running up the stairs, and swallowed down the partially chewed pasta in his mouth, ignoring the pain.

 

“Do you want me to go with him?” He asked as Jon was getting up, receiving a pat on his shoulder.

 

“It’s fine, Brendon. I think he just needs some time alone. Finish your dinner.” Brendon huffed, but turned in his seat, twirling his pasta with his fork and shoveling more into his mouth. Pete turned to Patrick, whispering something in his ear that Brendon couldn’t hear, but made the younger of the two flush a bright red, and punch him in the shoulder.

 

“They’re 10, you disgusting pervert!” Patrick hissed, and Brendon raised an eyebrow, then began to ignore them as Pete began laughing loudly and Patrick frowned at him in disapproval. After what felt like hours to Brendon, though it was really only mere minutes, he finished his dinner and was allowed to leave the table, immediately running up the stairs and into his now shared room.

 

He found Ryan laying on his unmade bunk, having thrown the blankets into a corner, and was curled up into a ball, forcing himself not to shiver in the cool air of their room. “Ryan?” He asked, voice softer than he thought possible previously. “Are you okay?”

 

Brendon wasn’t surprised when he didn’t receive an answer.

 

“Well, I know that whenever I’m feeling sad, I just look at the moon…” Brendon trailed off, his gaze turning to the window while Ryan just turned to watch him, peering through the bars with curious eyes. “I know that my parents are out there, somewhere. I know that someone who loves me is looking too, and might even be looking at the same moon. I mean… It’s cheesy, but it’s possible.”

 

Ryan felt like he had been punched in the gut. The smaller boy was so innocent, so fragile. “Maybe you should try it, Ryan. You seem to be sad a lot, but maybe this could help.” Brendon suggested, placing one small hand on Ryan’s knee.

 

“My dad’s a dead, abusive alcoholic, and my mother left me with him. She couldn’t love me, I was just a waste of time to both of them.” Ryan spoke for the first time, but Brendon didn’t seem as ecstatic as he might have been if the sentence was different. If the situation were different, if they weren’t both stuck in this home, hoping someone, anyone, would decide they were good enough to bring home. It was demeaning, being picked over like a basket of puppies and kittens.

 

“Oh…” Brendon breathed, looking to his lap. It was quiet for a while, Ryan just watching the cars go by below them, wondering how anyone could have made his words softer, better for Brendons naive ears. He felt awful, as if he were the one who first caused this sweet little boy to see bad in the world. Ryan was pulled out of his mind when he felt Brendon tug on his long sleeves, and turned to him, seeing the determined look on his face.

 

“Maybe I can be the person looking back. You’re… You’re my best friend, Ryan. I don’t want you feeling lonely, and if there really is no one else in your family, at least you have me, right?” Ryan searched the boy’s face again, before feeling his eyes start to water. He rubbed his face roughly, and turned around on the cold mattress again, wrapping his arms around his small, undernourished body and staring at the wall as his eyes watered up again. He refused to believe this small, stupid boy considered him his best friend. No one was Ryan’s best friend, everyone hated him, and that was his own fault. His dad had said.

  
Brendon closed the curtains. 


End file.
